


Lost A Bet

by sallyamongpoison



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 05:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyamongpoison/pseuds/sallyamongpoison
Summary: In which a drunk Harry makes a bet with a drunk Nate, shenanigans ensue.Alternately: the story about how Harry ended up with Drake's name tattooed on his butt.





	Lost A Bet

The buzz of the needle sounded louder than it probably should have. Then again, they’d been drinking and Harry’s head had been spinning since he’d stretched out across the table. He wasn’t so far gone that he was going to be sick, not anything close to that, but he was already sweating just a bit. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that this place was some hole in the wall and the only oscillating fan was pointed directly at the tattooed and pierced girl that was to his left.

“So how’s this look?” she asked, and Harry lifted his head from where it was pillowed on his arms to look behind him. He was lying on his stomach, so it was hard enough to move, and when he craned his neck to look over his shoulders the only thing he saw was the long line of his back and his pants bunched up down by his knees.

From the other side of him, Harry heard that telltale smug chuckle that could only come from Nathan fucking Drake. Not long ago the girl has put something down across his left arsecheek and peeled it off. The template, he assumed. Great. Nate was laughing, the drunk bastard that he was, and he heard the other man shuffle closer. There was a warmth on his lower back, Nate’s hand, and then another laugh as a sign of approval.

“Perfect.”

Great.

–

_“So…wait, you want me to do what exactly?”  
_

_“Get on the roof. Climb the outside. Use those fucking inhuman fingers and get up on the roof. Bet you won’t fucking do it.”  
_

_“What do I get if I do it?”  
_

_“You won’t!”  
_

_“What do I get if I do it?”  
_

_“I don’t know…whatever you want.”_

–

He’d been stupid. Honestly, Harry should have known better. Mostly he’d been talking out of his arse, but when it came to Nathan fucking Drake the man didn’t take bets lightly. Harry should have bet on  _that_ , and not the man’s ability to monkey climb up on buildings. That was how he came to be lying on his stomach in some dingy tattoo parlor with his pants down and Nate proudly proclaiming that he was going have the man’s name on his left butt cheek.

So then the buzzing again, and then the burning-stinging pain that only came from getting a tattoo. Thankfully he was still drunk enough that it didn’t hurt too much, and of course Nate had made some joke about how there was enough meat there to dull the pain. The prick. He winced, gripped the edge of the table a little tighter, and turned his head to the side to look up at Nate.

“You think this is hilarious, huh?” Harry asked, and scowled at the smug grin Nate wore.

Nate nodded, “This means I own you now, you know. Property of me.”

“You’re such a charmer, Drake,” he deadpanned, and winced as the needle moved again.

It didn’t take long, small a thing as it was, and before long Harry was allowed to get up and survey the damage. In the mirror, full length and dirty as it was, offered him the view of his pinked rear end. Where before there had been nothing, now across the left cheek was DRAKE written in some stylish script with shading. It took up the whole fucking side, too. Of course it did. Fucking of course it did.

Once he’d been bandaged up and had his pants back on, they made their way down the street toward the hotel they’d been staying at. Nate walked beside him, and Harry could feel how hard the man was trying not to laugh as he limped along for how his arse smarted. “This fucking sucks, you know?” Harry groused.

“Not the first time I lit your ass on fire,” Nate pointed out, then burst into what could only be self-satisfied actual  _giggling_.

He rolled his eyes and raked a hand through his hair. By now he was mostly sober again and he’d sweated through his shirt during the tattoo. Harry felt gross. He felt a lot of things.

That then included the feeling of Nate’s hand settling into the pocket of his jeans over where the tattoo tingled and ached. It was like a bad sunburn. And now Nathan fucking Drake had his hand over it like he owned it. That said, he kind of did. The tattoo. Not his arse. Not…mostly, anyway.

“Just means my arse’ll be out of commission until this thing bloody heals,” he pointed out.

Again, Nate started laughing, “And every time I see it from here on out I’ll know it’s mine,” he said, “and anyone else’ll know too.”

“Prick.”

“Hey, you should know better than to make bets with me. It’s not my fault you lost.”

That hand in his back pocket squeezed just enough for Harry to feel it, and it made him jump a bit, “Watch it, I’m injured!”

And that was how Harry Flynn came to have Nathan Drake’s name tattooed on his arse.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr! @sallyamongpoison


End file.
